Chapter Text
Penelope leaned back against the rough bark of the great oak she and Colin so often found themselves under. Its leaves rustled with the autumn wind, cool against her fingers as she ran them slowly through Colin’s dark mane.
“Tell me what it is you desire,” his voice was low and sweet. “What you wish for. What you dream of.”
Penelope sighed, closing her eyes as she listened to Colin read one of her favorite novels, an amorous tale secured for her by Merryweather. His head rested in her lap, leaving a pleasantly torturous heat pooling beneath her dress. It was a more intimate touch than they were accustomed to, but in those last few weeks leading up to Colin’s departure for his next tour, decorum had become a thing of the past.
“I dream of you,” Colin’s voice softened. “Nothing is sweeter than sleep, for that is where I may find you, to have you all to myself.”
“And what, pray tell, happens once you have me all to yourself, my dear?” Colin cooed, sending a shiver coursing through Penelope.
“Cold?” He broke character, glancing up at her with concern in his eyes.
Penelope shook her head, her fingers still weaving through his waves. Seemingly satisfied with her answer, he returned his attention to the page, leaning his head a bit further into her lap and smiling. He looked so peaceful; Penelope wished they could stay like that forever, Colin’s impending tour be damned.
Ten months.
It would be the longest he had ever been away, and Penelope was dreading it. Between his own adventures and his diplomatic visits on behalf of his brother, he’d have much to do, and Penelope would be left alone once more. She wasn’t sure she could bear so long of an absence, so long without his company or conversation; his laughter, his touch.
Colin continued to read, his voice smooth and expressive. Penelope listened half-heartedly as her mind began to wander. Typically, nothing captured her attention quite like Colin reading one of her romance novels, his narration rousing wicked things within her as she imagined it to be their reality - if only for a while.
But not today.
Today, she thought only of his impending departure, dreading it more and more with each passing hour.
“I wish you could stay,” Penelope blurted out, her lips moving of their own volition as she interrupted Colin.
“Hmm?” Colin looked up at her, his brow furrowed.
Quietly this time, Penelope repeated, “I wish you could stay.”
Colin’s lips twitched into a frown as he sat up, turning to face her. Slowly, he reached for her hand, caressing its back with his thumb.
“I’m sorry that I’m leaving you for so long,” he stared at their hands, squeezing lightly. “We’ll still write to each other and exchange the letters next summer, right?”
“Right,” Penelope sighed, less than pleased. Letters they couldn’t even send. Ten months, nearly a year without any real word from one another. What if something happened to him during his travels? Would she ever find out? What if he never came back? The thought chilled her, the beginning sting of unshed tears threatening to break loose.
“Pen,” Colin said softly. “What is on your mind?”
“Nothing,” she lied, worrying at her bottom lip as if that would hold the truth at bay.
“Not nothing,” he shook his head, ever able to read her. “Please tell me?”
What use was it to lie? She kept enough of her feelings to herself when it came to Colin, but this newfound fear of something befalling him on his travels created a knot in her stomach, a lump in her throat, fear seeping in through each nervous crack.
It was too much to keep to herself.
“I worry that if something happens to you, I’ll never know…” she began, finding comfort in his other hand seeking hers, squeezing once more in reassurance to keep going. “The thought of you being gone, of never coming back…”
“I will be back, I promise you.”
“There’s no way to know,” Penelope murmured, too scared to meet his eyes.
“Penelope,” Colin said, emphatic as hands moved up her arms, thumbs gently kneading into her softness. “There’s nothing that can keep me from coming back to you.”
Penelope’s breath caught, her bottom lip stuck between her teeth as she slowly looked up at him. His gaze was intense, imploring her to believe him. She had never seen him so earnest before, eyes brimming with something akin to pain as they stared at one another, Penelope’s heart swelling and stomach falling and head spinning all at once.
“That won’t always be true,” Penelope found herself saying, her deep seeded fears getting the better of her, her loose lips spilling secrets she meant to keep guarded.
“What do you mean?” Colin asked with a frown, though his cadence suggested he had an inclination.
“One day…” Penelope swallowed, nervously seeking the courage to follow through, “you won’t be able to come back. You have your…” she hesitated, the word betrothal too sour for her tongue, “royal responsibilities.”
Colin fell silent, a rare occurrence.
“You have your whole life planned out for you,” she continued, near babbling, “and one day you’ll have to leave and never come back.”
“Why?” Colin asked, though she found it rhetorical. They both knew why. It hung thick in the air between them any time the future came up, becoming less and less a distant problem to deal with. Whenever they found themselves particularly close, when their touch leaned more intimate than friendly. Whenever they locked eyes for a moment too long, guilt creeping in as they forced themselves to tear their gazes away.
“We have to be realistic,” Penelope murmured, breaking her own heart as she spoke, unsure why she continued to drive the knife in, twisting it with each assertion. Her whole being ached as Colin’s frown grew, so sad and unfamiliar to her, something she never wished to induce. He looked down at where his hands now clasped hers, his grip tighter than before.
“What if I don’t want to be?” He asked, quiet with a tinge of petulance. His eyes cast downward, his frown more pronounced.
“We cannot change our fates,” it was a whisper, but as it crossed her lips, something defiant bubbled within her.
Perhaps they could not change their fates. Colin was destined to wed a princess, someone from his own world. Penelope belonged to the forest, not a castle; she wasn’t fit to be a princess. She was destined for the mundane, he the great. That was the way things had to be.
But what if, Penelope thought to herself, she could take control - even for just a moment - and pursue something her heart ached for, something her future didn’t have in store.
“But perhaps we could put them on hold.”
“What do you mean?” Colin asked, having looked back up. He eyed her curiously as courage began to spark in her chest, her heart beating faster.
“Would…” Penelope stopped, only for a moment, rolling her lips together as she willed each ounce of courage to aid her in her time of need. “Would you kiss me, Colin?”
“I-” Colin hesitated, his lips beautifully parted as his deep green eyes flicked between her own and her lips, giving her a shred of hope as the forest went silent, as if even the leaves put their rustling on hold to await his answer.
“It wouldn’t have to mean anything,” Penelope began, desperate to see this through. “I know you are promised to another and I would never, ever ask or expect anything more of you, but I could die tomorrow-”
“You’re not going to die, Pen-”
“But I could, and it would kill me -”
“But you would already be dead…”
“-and you could die while you’re away-” Penelope’s courage began to wane, morphing back into anxiety as her earlier fears washed over her once more. She sensed a growing darkness around them, wind beginning to blow stronger through the forest as clouds covered what little sky was visible through the treetops.
“No one is going to die!” He was worked up, flustered, blinking rapidly as his hands ran up her arms. As quickly as her confidence had blossomed, soon too did it wither, shriveling in on itself as the color drained from her cheeks. “It would not mean nothing, Pen,” he murmured, his voice dropping with his gaze. Penelope felt another shiver prickle at her skin as the wind picked up, a faint whistle ringing through the trees. “It would change everything.”
It would. Penelope knew it would, she knew it, but her lips ached all the same to know his touch, even just once. Would he be soft and gentle, as he always was with her? Or would he lose himself, much like Penelope imagined she herself would? Would he sweep her off of her feet, or cradle her head against their tree as their lips explored one another? Her heart beat even faster, a flicker of hope shining, but promptly snuffed out when thunder rang out around them.
Biscuit whinnied from his nearby tree, kicking up his front legs as lightning flashed through the treetops. Colin looked his way then back to Penelope with nervous eyes, clearly lost on what his next move should be. With a sigh and tears pricking in her eyes, Penelope made the decision for him.
“Good luck on your tour,” Penelope murmured, taking him in one last time before gathering her book and shawl, donning it over her head as she began to scurry back to the cottage, tears falling freely as she ran.
“Pen, don’t leave-”
“Safe travels,” she called over her shoulder, running even faster.
“Pen!” She heard him call again, but she could not bear to look back, to be swallowed whole by her embarrassment and heartbreak.
Colin’s head spun as he watched Penelope disappear into the trees, her purple shawl hiding the red hair he so loved. He was sick to his stomach, reeling as he returned to Biscuit and tried to soothe his riled steed. He was already reliving his blunder, the defeated look on Penelope’s face slowly etching itself into his memory, something he was certain would haunt him for the rest of his days.
She wanted him to kiss her, and he didn’t. He stood there like a fool, spluttering and confused and yearning to give in. God, how he wanted to give in. How many times had he imagined sharing a kiss with Penelope? Touching her, exploring her in ways no friend should, much less one who was betrothed. Colin liked to think of himself as a man of honor, respectable, but his desires painted a much different picture.
Desires that nagged at him every time their skin touched, leaving him able to think of little else. The feeling of her fingers running through his hair, delicate and delightful, slowly working what little sanity he had left out of him. His head resting in her lap, her legs soft and plush as they cradled him. The way her hand fit perfectly in his as he twirled her around the forest, dancing the days away as she crooned sweetly for him, melting his heart with every note.
Knowing she wished for him to kiss her left his heart swelling, a joy unlike any other, yet quickly snuffed out by his own foolishness. Why hadn’t he done it, he thought to himself? Truly, why? To honor his betrothal to a stranger, someone he was certain could never move him in the way Penelope did?
As Colin and Biscuit galloped through the forest, raindrops trickling through the treetops, he grew even more uneasy the closer he came to the castle. It wasn’t right. Leaving now, leaving things so uncertain with Penelope. Her words of worry came back to him, chilling him more than the rain that poured down, leaving him endlessly nauseous. What if something did happen to him on his tour? What if he left her, never to return, sitting with the turmoil of their final moments together?
He couldn’t stand for it. Penelope deserved more than that; she deserved the world, something Colin would give her in an instant if he could. Quickly, he tugged at Biscuit’s reins, turning him back toward the oak tree and galloping with great speed. Raindrops, thick and wet, splat across his face as he rode, though he cared little about his damp nature. All that mattered was getting back to Penelope.
Colin hurried through the trees, calling for the owl with a repeated, ridiculous hoot. Biscuit, seeming to sense his urgency, whinnied along. No sign of the owl, the bluebirds, nor any of Penelope’s furry or feathered fellows. His desperation grew, starting to ride in what he thought was the direction of Penelope’s cottage. He knew he couldn’t come too close lest her aunts discover him, but he had to see her, he had to.
Through the trees he saw a small clearing ahead, occupied by a cottage built around a sturdy oak. Surrounding it was a garden, a mill, a small coop, and shed that Colin knew to be home to the family’s chickens and their cow, Marigold. Vines of ivy crept up the cottage, similar to the pin he had given Penelope the previous summer. His heart panged at the memory of her wearing it that day, his eyes welling as he imagined the smile she wore, brighter than any he had seen. How proud it had made him, and how intensely he enjoyed seeing her smile, bringing her back a part of the world she so longed to explore; that he longed to show her.
The shuttered windows of the cottage were pulled closed, the only sign of life being the smoke that ascended from the brick chimney. Colin sat atop Biscuit, leading him around the perimeter of the trees but not daring to come into full sight of the cottage, closed shutters or not. Unsure of what else he could do, he mimicked the owl’s hoot once more, hoping the sound could attract either the owl himself or perhaps Penelope. His hooting efforts proved to be fruitless, the sound barely distinguishable among the pounding of the rain. It was an eventual crack of thunder that broke the rain’s sound barrier, loud enough to startle Biscuit once more. He whinnied, loud and alarming, prompting an older woman to fling open the shutters closest to Colin. He could just make out the look on her face, a suspicious glare as she scoured the treeline.
“Easy, boy,” Colin soothed his horse, nervously steering him deeper into the woods. Anxiety crept through him, the realization that he may not be able to get to Penelope leaving him sick and distraught. His ship was meant to leave just after dawn the next morning, but Colin was ready to miss it, willing to stay all night if it meant mending things with Pen.
Soon enough, the rain slowed to a drizzle. Ready for his next attempt, Colin tied Biscuit’s reins to a low hanging branch, pleading with him to keep quiet. Steadily, Colin made his way back toward the cottage, hooting once more for the damn owl. After minutes of hooting, mixed with a few chirps, Colin heard the flapping of great wings behind him.
“Hoo,” the owl sounded out, a rather animated look of concern on his feathered face. Colin breathed a sigh of relief, his stomach finally starting to settle.
“I need to see Penelope, it’s urgent,” Colin began, rubbing his fingers together anxiously, his heart beating faster and faster. He continued to blather to the bird, unsure but uncaring of whether or not he fully understood. “Her aunt almost saw me, I can’t risk going any closer to the cottage, but I need to see her, please…”
The owl seemed to nod, flying off toward the cottage. Colin began to pace, circling through the trees like a madman, his stomach returning to its unsettled state as he prepared himself. Rain continued to sprinkle through the gaps in the treetops, briefly heavier waves coming through every few minutes. Colin was soaked, but he hadn’t the will to care, far more concerned with figuring out what it was he even wanted to say, to do.
He shouldn’t kiss her. He knew that. He had, in fact, spent years reminding himself of such. But his ability to care about honoring his betrothal withered with every secret meeting in the forest, fraying and decaying as something glorious grew in its place. A friendship like no other, forged between the trees as both escaped the realities they were stuck with. A fondness for one another that Colin had never before known, something wonderful and all consuming, slowly stealing his heart until that very day when he realized Penelope held it in her hands completely.
“I will be right back!” a familiar voice called in the near distance. “I need to save my book!”
“It is already ruined, dearie!” another called back, one of her aunts.
“I must try!” Penelope’s voice grew closer, sending a wave of shuddering relief through Colin. Her frame came into view, padding quickly in his direction as a heavier bout of rain poured down upon them. Colin found himself hurrying toward her, coming to a stop only once she was within reaching distance. Eyes wide and cheeks red, Pen gazed up at him, panting as she tried to catch her breath, frustratingly adorable as Colin struggled to gather his thoughts or form some kind of plan.
“Your book?” was all he could manage, itching to take hold of her hands as his own clenched furiously, barely held back.
“I could not say it was you,” Penelope asserted. Tentatively, she asked, “What are you doing, Colin?”
“I had to see you, immediately,” he breathed, his heart pounding in his chest as he moved even closer to her. “I cannot leave until I make things right with you, Penelope.”
“What do you mean?” she asked cautiously, though she too moved closer until they were all but upon one another.
“I do not care about my fate, Pen. I truly could not give a damn, not when the present is everything I had never known I needed,” Colin’s hands finally sought hers, welcomed with a squeeze as he continued. Their hands soon clasped, fingers lacing together. “But I know now, Pen. I know that you mean more to me than I could ever begin to put into words, and the thought of leaving our friendship in such a state during my absence…it’s unbearable.”
Penelope blinked back at him, her tongue unfairly drawing attention to her lips as it poked out between them, a nervous habit of hers that Colin had always been endeared to, and now driven mad by.
“Our friendship,” Penelope repeated with a small nod, her hands loosening their grip ever so slightly.
“Us, Pen. You and me. Whatever it is we have,” Colin moved a hand up Penelope’s arm, his thumb slowly stroking her, his remaining hand gently finding her waist. “I do not care about my fate, Penelope,” he reiterated, more forceful than before. “I care about you. Whenever we’re apart, I spend each moment wishing to be with you, to share in your laughter, in your joy, your sorrows. These next ten months without you will be the longest of my life, and…and…and…”
Colin wanted to continue, to prove himself true, but with each word, he felt Penelope rise toward him. Standing upon her toes, the top of her head barely coming past his chin, she gazed up at him with her brown eyes unbelievably wide and vulnerable. All he could think to do in return was meet her the rest of the way, craning his neck down until their noses brushed.
Their eyes locked, dark green meeting deep brown, blinking and unsure until Penelope nodded her head, her hands lightly splaying across his chest.
Colin closed the small distance between them, his lips greeted by the plush warmth of Penelope’s. He was slow at first, tentative as they shattered what little boundaries they had left with one another, propriety forevermore a thing of the past. They pulled apart for a moment, eyes searching for any sign of disappointment. When none was found, Colin’s want morphed into near hunger, the overwhelming urge to kiss her too much to resist any longer.
His hand found her cheek, cradling her as their lips began to explore. Penelope leaned into him, soft and wet from the rain, her hands gripping tight to his soaked brown vest. They kissed again and again, lips fervent and touches feverish, unable and unwilling to let go of one another as affection coursed through each vein. Colin felt dizzy with bliss, grounded only by Penelope, her lips more enchanting than he had ever imagined - and oh, had he imagined. Nothing he had conjured in his mind came close to the real thing, to the tenderness and the fervor that had consumed them.
“I will come back to you, Pen,” Colin finally said between kisses, unwilling just yet to leave her. “Nothing can stop me from coming back to you.”
